


First Crush

by mellyface



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Except they don't go all the way, First Time, Horny Teenagers, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Touching Over Clothes, getting together kind of, idk u get the idea just read the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:00:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24251716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellyface/pseuds/mellyface
Summary: Unlike what some of his peers probably think, liking idols and liking boys aren’t mutually exclusive. But that doesn’t mean they don’t, at times, overlap. What it does mean though, for Aira, is that if he has to choose between regular dumb boys or idols, the choice is pretty obvious.Which is how he’s somehow made it all the way to his first year in high school without having ever experienced his first real crush.(except then he meets Hiiro who happens to be both a regular dumb boy AND an idol)((aka the fic where Aira realizes he has a fat crush on Hiiro and also unfortunately gets stuck sharing a bed with him))
Relationships: Amagi Hiiro/Shiratori Aira
Comments: 8
Kudos: 139





	First Crush

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so bad at summaries thanks for reading that hot mess and still somehow managing to click on this fic and give it a shot  
> (hiiai is canon thanks!!!!!!!!!!!!!1)  
> I'm still rusty af honestly I feel like my writing keeps getting worse, so I’m pretty self conscious, but I hope you like it!!

Aira likes boys.   
He’s known this since he was little, pretty much even before ever coming up with catchphrases like “Ai Love~~” or singing into his hairbrush in front of the mirror. He’s sure there are plenty of male (aspiring) idols who are straight—probably even the majority, for all he knows—but as for himself, he just knows plain and simple. He likes boys.

Unlike what some of his peers probably think—at least the ones from before he got into idol school—liking idols and liking boys aren’t mutually exclusive. But that doesn’t mean they don’t, at times, overlap. What it does mean though is that if Aira had to choose between regular dumb boys or idols, the choice is pretty obvious. Which is how he’s somehow made it all the way to his first year in high school without having ever experienced his first real crush.

To be fair, all of his good friends growing up have been either girls or idol-ota like himself, or just too-ordinary boys who could never hold a candle to his beloved idols’ brilliance.

All of his love and energy goes into idols: watching them, researching them, supporting them, adoring them—it’s a full time hobby. He’s simply never had the time to spare a second glance at other guys. But just because Aira loves idols doesn’t mean he wants to date them by default, either. There’s a reason they’re called that after all— _idols_. Something to be held high on a pedestal. Above anything else he wants to be _like_ them rather than be _with_ them.

Well, okay, maybe that time he scored lottery tickets for UNDEAD’s live and saw them up close on stage in tight leather pants, dancing in a way that left little to the imagination, and whispering things (that really ought to be NG for minors to be singing on stage, he personally thinks,) into their standing mics like sexy, pole-dancing incubi, he might have felt some kind of way beyond just simple admiration. Might have felt a way that made his little gay teenage heart swoon and his blood get all hot and tingly, stirring up his fantasies—what with all that lusty stuff about gazing into (Rei Sakuma’s, obviously) crimson eyes and a whole lot about pleasure and lips aching and, like, a bunch of other kind of really horny vampiric imagery. And maybe he touched himself thinking about it later—but like, could anyone really blame him?—but it’s not as if he ever for any moment actually had real hopes or even any desire to get with any of the UNDEAD members for real. (Admittedly it would be really hard to say no if any of them actually solicited him for anything, but even then he’s positive it’d be 100% out of being starstruck rather than having a legitimate crush.)

For one, Aira would claim he understands more than most the distinction that idols are actually real, normal (in their own sort of way) people. Even before seeing any up close and personal, being an idol maniac he’s researched his favorite idols down to the most mundane details, any scraps of publicly-released info on their personal lives that he could find. He knows there’s much more beneath the surface layer of glittering smiles and dazzling stage lights, but even if he does feel at times like he might know the ‘real’ person behind the exterior idol persona, he'd never make the mistake of thinking it’s mutual. He’s just a fan. They don’t know him, and he probably still doesn’t _really_ know them, either. Even after breaking into the world of idols himself and talking with some of his most-admired favorite idols up close face-to-face, he can still feel just how wide the gap is between them. Whatever other idol otaku might try to claim or really believe otherwise, you can’t really be in love with someone like that.

So therein lies Aira’s problem—the people closest to him have never been and can’t live up to his type, and the people who _are_ his type are totally beyond his reach.

But lately Aira’s found himself with a new problem—a problem named Hiiro Amagi:  
The first person in the history of his life to be both his walking ideal, the (frustratingly and unfairly) brilliantly shining fledgling idol of his dreams, and also somehow someone who is super close to him in real life (as in, like, literally has no concept of respecting Aira’s personal space).

As living proof of this, said problem (“Hiro-kun”) currently lies only centimeters from his face, snoring softly on Aira’s pillow. 

_Your own bunk is just above us, dummyyy!_

Aira had made the mistake of opening up to the idiot and admitting, in a whisper so as not to wake their senpai on the opposite bunk-bed, that he was having trouble falling asleep. Which at first had only to do with his brain in overdrive, repeatedly circling through all his thoughts after an exhausting-but-productive evening practice, but now has everything to do with Hiiro having crawled into Aira’s bed with some hushed insistence that this is what his brother always did for him when he couldn’t sleep as a kid and how it apparently had always put Hiiro right to sleep without fail.   
Which it did, leaving Aira trapped under a snoozing Hiiro’s heavy leg and staring at his stupid, beautiful, long eyelashes, honestly much more awake now than before.

This is not the way Aira had pictured things to go in any of his prior vague fantasies of ever someday getting himself an idol boyfriend, the sequence of events in his head something more along the lines of: idol→friend→boyfriend, meanwhile the current pattern with Hiiro being more like: friend(?)→idol(??)→??????

“?????“ being a more appropriate label than “boyfriend” or anything like that, because for all that Hiiro loves to grab Aira’s hand or suddenly hug him or stand too close to him or give him way too nice compliments and frequently otherwise invade his personal space, they haven’t actually done anything yet. Even if it’s always Hiiro initiating the touch with honestly probably completely innocent intentions, Aira can’t even deny that _he’s_ probably the one who’s crushing on _Hiiro_ if anything, and not the other way around, which makes all of this that much more agonizing.

Aira resists the urge to scream into his own pillow and continues to stare at Hiiro instead. When he’s all quiet like this, breathing in a steady rhythm, eyebrows a little furrowed in his sleep, he’s a little bit like a wild beast. It’s the same as when he’s on stage, and all traces of the clumsy but serious, off-beat but innocent and well-intentioned Hiro-kun he’s come to know disappear, replaced by raw, pure star power. It makes Aira feel itchy, like he’s being left behind in more ways than one. To think at first he’d naively assumed Hiiro to be a talentless rookie like himself—it’s frustrating enough to be only one in their unit without any talent, but to have completely misread Hiiro like this? The Hiiro he knows and the Hiiro who comes out on stage might as well be two different people. If he’s totally honest with himself, it makes him feel more than a little left out.

Aira sighs against the pillow and resists the childish urge to pinch Hiiro’s nose, but waking him would be too much trouble. He squints at his stupidly handsome features in the darkness. 

_Who said you were allowed to be cool?_ he thinks with halfhearted reproach, before his heart sinks a little, ... _don’t leave me behind._

When Aira wakes up—with no recollection of when he’d actually managed to fall asleep—and feels Hiiro’s morning wood pressed firmly into his backside, he quickly retracts his previous sentiment.

“You’re banned from sleeping in my bed ever again!” he shrieks over his breakfast when Hiiro finally wakes. He jabs his milk-bread-roll accusingly in his groupmate’s direction, punctuating his words with the noisy crinkling of the plastic wrapper. He tries real hard not to actually look at Hiiro as he slides out of Aira’s bunk and his shirt unfairly rides up over his totally-not-sexy-or-anything hip bones with the motion.

“Whoa, I really slept in—sleeping with you is really comfortable, Aira!” Hiiro rises to his feet with a languid stretch, strangely chipper even in his half-asleep state before Aira’s words sink in. “Eh, wait!? I’m banned!?”

Aira feels grateful that they’re alone, what with Tattsun-senpai off doing his morning prayer thing and also Mayo-san nowhere to be found (honestly probably under the bed or floorboards or whatever but as long as Aira can convince himself that it’s just the two of them right now then that’s fine.) He stares hard at his half-eaten bread, at a small glob of cream stuck to the wrapper—anywhere but at Hiiro, who scratches absently at his taut tummy under his T-shirt.

“I don’t really get it...but if I did something bad, tell me and I’ll reflect on it!”

Aira tries hard not to think about how cute and sleepy Hiiro looks right now even while he’s clearly trying to be awake and earnest in the moment—or how warm and _hard_ but cozy his body had felt earlier pressed up to the back of Aira’s own contrastingly soft little frame, or also his breath on the back of his neck, also how his morning wood felt poking into his buttcheek through the safety net of their sweatpants which, _yes_ , had made him all but fling himself off his own bed in alarm at first but had also definitely not been totally unpleasant. In fact the sensation of it still lingers with him waay too vividly for Aira’s comfort and the room feels really hot right now or maybe it’s just his face that’s hot but—

“Aira?” 

Hiiro’s face is suddenly very close to his.

Aira nearly topples backward out of his chair. “Hyah?! Hiro-kun, don’t sneak up on me like that!?”

“But I’m right in front of you...that’s not really sneaking.” 

Hiiro’s eyes are sincere and blue as ever. _How dare you be so innocent when you…!!_ Aira shuts his eyes and feels a headache coming on. He refuses to believe that he’s just one-sidedly some kind of pervert thinking about weird stuff. Why is he the only one who has to be so gosh darn self-conscious?

Maybe he’s being too harsh, too conscious of Hiiro, who realistically can’t really help whether he has... Aira feels embarrassed even thinking the word— _morning wood_ —and probably isn’t even conscious of it since why should he be, when it’s such a perfectly healthy and normal boy thing to have? It’s not really fair to be mad at him when he’s really only panicking because he… Aira takes a deep breath. Because.   
Because he likes Hiiro.

Ugh. “It’s nothing.”

Hiiro cocks his head to the side like a puppy, a big “?” written all over his face.

“You didn’t do anything bad. Forget I said anything, don’t worry about it!”

It’s hard to stay mad at Hiiro anyway, when he perks up and smiles all cute and satisfied just like that. If he can’t blame Hiiro, then that’s fine—he’ll just have to be extra careful not to let his guard down.

—Or so he tells himself, but somehow Hiiro ends up on his bunk with him again that night. And the night after that, and again after that. 

It’s almost worse that their senpai don’t even comment on it, either. Hiiro seems perfectly content with it as well, to the point that after the first few nights of asking, “Do you need some help sleeping tonight too?” followed by a sheepish non-committal “...Umm, I guess, if you want, or whatever…” from Aira, he doesn’t even ask anymore, just hops straight into Aira’s bunk when it’s time for bed like it might as well be his own. And Aira is left with no choice but to admit to himself that he’s fully enabling this. 

It’s the least amount of sleep he’s ever gotten while actually practicing a decent bedtime. This is worse than any of the times he’d marathoned his favorite concert DVDs all in succession (because how could he stop after just one?) and was too excited to fall asleep for hours after. Every time Aira does finally feel the beginnings of sleep take over, a warm, snoozing Hiro-kun beside him turns in his sleep like clockwork, lanky and all limbs and taking up the whole bed, jarring him awake again. Their bodies are touching in some way more often than not. As if on cue, Hiiro’s knuckles graze against the small of his back as he shifts again, the tips of his fingers resting dangerously close to Aira’s butt. 

It’s maddening that his heart has the audacity to thump ten times harder at this than it does even when he’s watching a live—maybe even participating in one, except he feels like with the way he's been feeling about Hiiro lately, he’ll probably die next time they get a chance to stand on stage together. That is, if he doesn’t die of a heart attack or stroke or whatever first, considering how his heart seems determined to burst out of his chest just because Hiiro’s sidled up cozily to his back. He’s so warm. What the heck. If having a crush on a boy is this agonizing, Aira can’t help feeling grateful he’s managed to survive all of elementary and middle school without one.

The worst part is the way his mind continues to run rampant into all corners of new and scary territory without his permission, opening doors to weird fantasies that he’s not actually totally sure he’s ready to open. Like what if they kissed? _Heavy petting_??? What if they—

The thought fizzles out before it’s even taken proper shape in his mind, as Aira feels something brush his spine and sends a shiver down his back. Hiiro shifting and bumping against him in his sleep again, no doubt. He tries to inch away, but the same motion that just brushed up his spine comes sweeping back down, and it feels more now like he’s being deliberately stroked. But there’s no way…?

Against his better judgment, Aira steals a peek over his shoulder. Sure enough Hiiro’s eyes are totally closed, gentle snores still falling in a slow rhythm. No change. The touch at his back seems to have stilled as well—had it been his imagination? Now if only his heart would also still. It flusters Aira more, somehow, that he’s the only one getting worked up over a few accidental grazes while stupid Hiro-kun’s blissfully asleep and unaware. It only makes it worse that he likes it way too much, that he actually craves more of that touch. For all that he calls Hiiro stupid, he sure feels like the idiot right now. 

_Stupid Hiro-kunnnn_ , he thinks, _pet me, cuddle meee!_ If he’s going to touch Aira then he should do it more thoroughly!—Though Aira knows realistically he’d probably melt and die on the spot if he did.

The minutes drag on for what feel like hours, but just as Aira’s resigned himself to a long, virtually sleepless night of pathetic pining, the petting starts up again, making all his hairs stand on end.

_You’ve got to be kidding me...!!_

Okay, this is just downright unfair, Aira thinks, feeling sorry for himself a bit at this point. But even if it low-key drives him crazy, he doesn’t want it to stop. It feels really nice—it honestly should make him feel sleepy, the touch itself lazily hypnotic and soothing, but how can he relax at a time like this? He wants Hiiro to touch him more, everywhere, it’s frustrating. 

He squeezes his eyes shut tight. He’s always considered himself to be a good boy, but dang it, why does he have to feel like he’s the perverted one now, when it comes to the two of them? 

He gives in, a little. Cursing Hiiro in his thoughts for the millionth time, Aira lowers his hand to the front of his sweatpants, applying pressure with the heel of his palm. _Ah_ —

This is totally wrong, and he feels pretty guilty, but he can’t fully bring himself to care, at least not enough to stop. It’s not like he’s gonna jerk off, he tells himself, he can’t do that with Hiro-kun right there. This is just to take some of the edge off.   
Whatever, it feels better like this, and Hiiro’s seemingly fast asleep anyway.

Still he tries to keep quiet, he really does. And it’s easy enough at first, starting off with the intention of only rubbing away some of the frustration but predictably only becoming more frustrated in reality. It’s really hard not to picture Hiiro’s hand in place of his own—oohh, how would that feel? Hiiro’s hands are bigger, stronger than his own, probably a little tougher to the touch. What would that feel like on—Aira feels himself flush—on his bare skin? How does Hiiro touch himself, anyway? Does he even masturbate? He has to, right? He’s a normal healthy boy... but then again he has those moments where he seems kinda inhuman, kinda wild, but weirdly innocent. But it’s too easy to imagine, and crap, now he’s imagining it. What kind of things would a good boy like Hiiro jerk off to anyway? Probably not other boys—Aira feels his heart sink a teeny tiny bit at the thought, but now he’s imagining that anyway, too. He slips his hand guiltily into his sweatpants, slides it under the waistband of his underwear.   
God. He’s so done for.

“ _Ah…_ ” the quietest sigh escapes. It’s fine, but he’ll have to be more careful, he thinks.

Only Hiiro’s suddenly closing in on him from behind, hugging his waist. Aira’s first panicked thought is that he’s touching Aira in his sleep again—that his sigh somehow triggered a response in Hiiro’s dreaming mind to make him unconsciously cuddle up closer—until he feels Hiiro’s breath against his ear.

“Aira.” His voice sounds happy, like a barely voiced hum. 

_What on earth is he dreaming about_ , Aira wonders, hand frozen in his pants. This is honestly too much for his heart. Ahh, he’s gonna die. No, it’s fine, at least he’s barely touched himself, he can just—

“You’re awake, aren’t you?”

Huh.

Ha ha... He can’t have heard that right. _Better just ignore it!_ —is what he tells himself in fight-or-flight response (he chooses flight), which works out perfectly since he’s apparently frozen into silence anyway. He'll just pack his bags first thing in the morning and move in back home. Yeah, becoming an idol and shacking up with other idols was a mistake.

“Aira…? Why did you stop.”

Hiiro reaches around Aira’s front without hesitation and palms at his groin, like that’s something he can just _do,_ apparently _,_ and so-help-him-god, Aira would scream if he wasn’t certain he’d rather die than accidentally wake up Tattsun-senpai and Mayo-san in a situation like this. What he does manage is a desperate though carefully hushed, “H-Hiro-kun…!!?”

Has he been awake this whole time? Then wait, has he been petting him consciously then, like on purpose?? Aira practically feels his eyes cross trying to make sense of tings in his own head. Somehow in the midst of chaos the one thought that does pop into his mind with any bit of clarity is, shouldn’t they _kiss_ first?

Hiiro doesn’t seem to see any problem with the situation as it is, however, and carries on, gently pulling Aira down by the shoulder to get him on his back so he can lean over him. He speaks quiet, tentative, like he knows what they’re doing (about to do?) is definitely gonna have to be kept a secret, which is a level of awareness from Hiiro that Aira will actually remember to be impressed about later.

“Can I touch you?”

 _You’re doing it already, dummy!_ Aira responds in his head accidentally instead of out loud, but he doesn’t stop Hiiro from feeling up the stiff little bulge at the front of his sweatpants, just covers his eyes like a blushing maiden. 

I take it all back, he thinks, Hiro-kun’s totally a pervert. It feels good though, like ten, no, at least a hundred times better than he imagined. _Wow_. 

_Hiro-kun_ … he opens his mouth to try to say, but an embarrassing tiny whimpering noise comes out instead. Okay yeah, he was right. He’s totally gonna melt and die on the spot.

“Aira…” Hiiro whispers sleepy, voice heady. He pulls Aira’s hands away with his free hand, still touching him with the other, “Let’s kiss.”

He wants to tell Hiiro they can’t. That they’re both idols who aren’t allowed to do this stuff and also both boys, which is something Aira is obviously okay with but something Hiiro probably needs to think about properly, not to mention that they haven’t even had a proper talk about their feelings, and a bunch of other excuses he’s sure he has for why they shouldn’t do this that he just can’t think of right now. But he’s also horny and has a big, fat, heart-aching crush on Hiiro and honestly just really wants to kiss him, so he gives in and closes his eyes.

It’s warm, and soft. A little wet—and feels kinda underwhelmingly normal in comparison when he’s also having his dick felt up through his pants at the same time—but it’s nice. His mouth kinda naturally falls open but it’s hard to care when everything just feels good, and his mind just kind of goes ‘aaaa.’

But then Hiiro’s tongue is in his mouth, tasting him, and it quickly becomes increasingly harder to keep up. 

“Hiro-ku…nn”

Between the assault on his mouth and his lower-half, Aira doesn’t know where to focus. His body gives an involuntary shiver when Hiiro finally pulls back, a nauseating mix of relief, tiredness and dizzy euphoria, but also greedy for more Hiiro. He feels drunk on those big blue eyes, that look black and hungry in the dark.

“Aira, you’re so cute.” 

The praise could probably set him on fire. 

Aira feels his clarity return though, just in time, as Hiiro’s fingertips begin to venture beneath his waistband.

“W—!” He quickly lowers his voice again to a whisper, and manages to stay Hiiro’s hand. “Wait.”

Hiiro understands without Aira needing to explain, and retreats a little, tugging down just his pants instead of his underwear. “Mkay.” He mumbles simply, nuzzling his face into Aira’s neck, who in turn totally pretends he doesn’t notice Hiiro _smelling_ him, or that that doesn’t make him kinda weirdly super horny. 

Over-the-briefs touching is fine for now, Aira’s glad to find Hiiro agrees, and honestly it’s pretty overwhelmingly erotic as is, given that he’s never even kissed or held hands with another boy in his life, and now Hiiro’s stroking him through only his underwear. He’s gonna die. 

_Nonono, don’t die! Touch him back…!_

Aira musters up the courage to slowly bring his hand to the front of Hiiro’s pants as well, and slip his fingers through the front slit opening of his pajama pants. He shyly feels up his full, proud shape, hard and swollen and tenting his underwear. Wow, that sure is another boy’s dick. Even if it’s probably a given at this point, he’s at least glad Hiiro’s just as hard as he is.

Hiiro gives a thankful, happy hum against Aira’s lips, and even though he feels clumsy and nervous, Aira shyly opens his mouth for him again.

He's got his eyes shut as tight as is humanly possible without actually squeezing them back into his skull, waaay to shy and nervous to try opening them and looking at Hiiro, or braving a glance down at his full, warm cock, a little slippery in his underwear already, dampening the front of his sweats while Aira fumbles his small and inexperienced hand over it in a way that he really, really hopes feels anywhere near as good as Hiiro’s does for him. But even if he isn’t looking at it, he can perfectly feel the shape, feel the contour of it. It feels big. Not huge, thank god, but definitely bigger than his own—longer, and thicker, just like the rest of Hiiro compared to him. It’s a little scary, but also...really nice. 

He tries to swallow the spit around their tongues, not sure if he’s kissing right, but feeling like he for sure doesn’t want to drool at least. If he’s doing a poor job at any of this, Hiiro doesn’t complain though. He’s mostly just following Hiiro’s lead—it’s all he can do, really, to try to keep up—but it makes sense. Of course Hiiro just has to be naturally good at this too, doesn't he. But Aira wants to take the lead, too, with something at least. 

He settles for pulling Hiiro’s hand up and placing it under his shirt. Maybe Hiiro’s hand in his underwear is a no-go for now, but in his shirt he can handle. Probably.

Hiiro wastes no time waiting to feel him up, savoring the soft expanse of his smooth flat tummy, the indents of his waist, the delicate curve of his ribcage and his smooth chest. It feels really nice to be pet—decidedly maybe his favorite, if not a little tickly—that is, until Hiiro’s thumb and forefinger find one of his nipples with an experimental little squeeze, and Aira feels his whole entire body spasm. He curls in on himself involuntarily and nearly knees Hiiro in the chest, or probably would have if the other boy didn’t manage to dodge it. Hiiro pinches a little harder. The more he plays with his chest the more Aira feels like his voice is definitely gonna come out, soft little moans already threatening to escape if not for being drowned out by Hiiro’s mouth.

It’s too much after all, the direct touch on his bare skin in such a sensitive area. He can’t help reaching down to palm at himself again despite that he’s barely keeping up with petting Hiiro, his strokes becoming sloppier and further timed apart. If Hiiro minds this though, he endures it and kisses the side of Aira’s mouth, his cheek, down his neck, and it’s all Aira can do to bite his lip to keep himself quiet. When Hiiro suddenly stops, the room feels like it’s spinning. 

He wants to complain, to whine for more, but the look in Hiiro’s eyes silences him, as if to say they’re not done. He pushes Aira’s legs apart and grinds his lower half against Aira’s. Even through their clothes it feels really _wow._

It kind of dawns on Aira belatedly that, whoa, Hiiro likes touching him and wants to do this kinda stuff with him. That this doesn’t just feel good for him, but for Hiiro too. Realizing he can do that for the person he likes honestly feels pretty amazing. What also feels amazing is Hiiro leaning down to push up Aira’s shirt and lick his chest. Next time (if there is a next time—he hopes??) he wants to do this for Hiiro too, if he can somehow make himself so bold. He makes a mental note.

His hands just sort of find their way into Hiiro’s thick, soft, curly red hair, while Hiiro’s body gently rocks him. He threads his fingers through it, amazed in a sudden out-of-body-moment sort of way at how it doesn’t even tangle. He’s never touched wavy hair before. It’s nice. He hopes he can touch Hiiro’s hair more. That this isn’t just a one time thing. But it’s strange... Even if it does turn out to be that, he’s somehow sure that Hiiro won’t treat him badly. He’s definitely too kind, values Aira too much as a friend to do that. But that’s all the more reason why his heart hurts imagining all the what-if outcomes that end with them being “just friends.”

“I really like you…” he admits, half into the pillow, half bitten off as he worries his bottom lip between his teeth once more to keep back another moan. Hiiro doesn’t reply, but what does Aira expect, when his mouth is obviously busy. Still the fear of rejection involuntarily gets the better of him and sinks its hooks into his heart—or would, if the build-up of orgasm didn’t suddenly take precedence.

He claps a hand over his mouth at lightning speed and feels his entire body scrunch up, Hiiro also burying his face into Aira’s shoulder to keep himself quiet as he, too, tenses up. Coming in their pants isn’t totally pleasant—or at least definitely won’t be later, but in the moment everything just feels hot and tingly all over, followed by a heady wave of contentment. Aira tries to push down the involuntary surge of happiness at the fact that they came together, at the same time. He’s so sleepy, but the adrenaline makes his mind buzz. He feels all jittery, a mix of stimulation and nerves.   
Ahh, what now…?

Hiiro collapses on top of him, and just when Aira’s about to hit hard cancel on his crush on Hiiro, the big dummy, for immediately falling asleep, his arms wrap around Aira and pull him into a big warm hug. He inhales the scent of Aira’s neck and hair deeply, which felt erotic before but now is just super embarrassing.

“Stop it—Hiro-kun, _stupid—_!” He begins to protest in a whisper, but finds himself interrupted.

“Me too. I like you too.”

“Wh…!!”

He really wants to smack him. _You can’t just answer suddenly like it’s nothing, idiot!_ He curses Hiiro in his head. He really wants to be mad at him. He really does. He wraps his arms around him instead.

It’s heart-meltingly annoying how he can feel Hiiro’s smile form against his skin.

Having a crush is exhausting, he thinks. He’s completely drained. For the first time in a while, Aira feels like he’s gonna sleep well tonight. 

**Author's Note:**

> this has almost nothing to do with the fic but I love that aira always eats hella sweets. cutest boy.


End file.
